


tender are the motions

by orions



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Multi, Post-Canon, blatant 15x20 erasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orions/pseuds/orions
Summary: Cas’ nose scrunches up when he laughs. It takes years for Dean to notice this.Dean and Cas settle into retirement together.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 30
Kudos: 431





	tender are the motions

Cas’ nose scrunches up when he laughs.

It takes years for Dean to notice this. Mostly because Cas never really laughs. He chuckles sometimes, and Dean doesn’t remember when exactly Cas started smiling, but he smiles often now. When Cas is annoyed at him, he always tries his hardest not to smile at Dean’s jokes, but his lips always twitch the tiniest bit anyways. 

But it’s Jack that makes Cas laugh the most. 

When Jack is still young (well, younger) and takes everything they say as the Gospel Truth, he catches Dean sneaking Fruit Loops out of the pantry. They’re snatched out Dean’s hands before Dean’s even got the damn box off the shelf, Jack staring at him with a grave expression, Fruit Loops clutched to his chest.

“You shouldn’t eat these, Dean.” Jack says solemnly. “Sam says you’re too old and that they could clog your arteries and kill you.”

And Cas, the traitor, laughs. 

Dean snatches the box back and turns to glare at Cas, and that’s when he notices it for the first time.

Cas’ nose scrunches up when he laughs. 

Dean is a few years past pretending that details like this don’t matter to him. He thinks about it for the rest of the day, and then all that night, and then just about every day after that. He’s five seconds away from putting on a clown nose and acting even more of a fool just to see it again. 

Fatherhood makes Cas lighter. Once Dean knows to look, Cas laughs all the time. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything better than the first time he says something stupid and watches as Cas looks down at the table, shaking his head, and laughs. 

Then everything goes to shit, and Cas doesn’t laugh for a long, long time.

***

“We should get a cat.”

“Cas, _no_.” Dean turns his head away from the road just enough to give Cas a little glare, hoping it conveys just how adamant he is about _not doing that_. 

“It’s too quiet now.” Cas complains, almost whiny, leaning back against the passenger’s seat. “Don’t you think so?”

Dean does think so. Jack comes and goes as he pleases. According to him, he comes around all the time, but time works differently for Jack than it does for the rest of them. Sam and Eileen come over once a week - more if they run out of monsters to delegate hunters to, which happens more and more often now. Sam has done away with John Winchester’s zero tolerance policy, so sometimes all it takes is a stern warning and quick magic lesson to stop some young witch from cursing the townspeople. Claire’s taken to dealing with the less diplomatic cases, and likes to drop in on Dean and Cas’ in her spare time to eat them out of house and home and do her laundry. 

It’s still too quiet.

“It’s just empty nester syndrome, Cas.” Dean says. He has no idea that means, but it’s what Sam told him. “It’ll pass.” 

Cas squints at him in a way that clearly states, _You’re wrong, but I’ll allow it to drop for now._

“Remember what Sam said, yeah?” Dean continues, reaching a hand across to thump Cas lightly on the chest. “You just need to get some hobbies.”

“ _We_ , Dean, he said _we_ need to get some hobbies.” 

Dean has hobbies. He’s perfecting his recipes, for one. Hell, he’s even reading more now. He has a goddamn library card. 

Then there’s the house.

The Bunker has become Sam and Eileen’s little Hunter’s Headquarters. Hunters come and go, filling in the empty bedrooms and lending helping hands. Sam and Eileen only ever stay if they’re too tired to drive back to their little house just outside of Lebanon. Dean wasn’t looking, per se, but he happened to stumble across a property close enough to Sam to warrant frequent visits, but not so close that he felt he was hovering. The farmhouse was idyllic from the outside - wrap-around porch, lots of land, and a garage big enough for a second car if Cas ever felt inclined. 

The inside was a different story. Peeling wallpaper, half finished renovations, water damage, the whole nine. Sam and Cas had blanched at the sight of it, but Dean harassed them about it for a few days, and eventually they saw his vision. It turns out retirement agrees with Dean. They now have a completed living room and bathroom, a semi-functional kitchen, and two half-finished bedrooms. 

Cas helps when the whim takes him. He’s good with his hands, but his interest in construction is minimal. He’s passionate about paint colors and in bothering Dean about finishing the spare rooms for the kids. It’s a big house, and Cas insists on giving Claire and Jack their own rooms, but they’ve compromised on completing the main bedroom and one guest room first. 

“I think the kitchen cabinets should be Black Spruce.” Cas says with a note of finality.

“The _tree?_ ”

“The color.”

“Oh, for the love of - you don’t even cook, Cas!” 

Cas huffs, pushing his phone under Dean’s nose to show him images of paint swatches. It _is_ a nice color, but Dean plans on giving it at least three business days before giving in and buying it. 

“Dean,” Cas says softly. 

Dean rolls his eyes and looks over at Cas again, “ _What?_ ”

“I love you.”

***

For Sam and Dean, it only took moments for Jack to zip Cas back out of The Empty. 

For Jack and Cas, it was a little more complicated. 

The Empty was glad to be rid of Cas. Not since Gabriel had another being annoyed The Empty so much. It was the principal of the thing, though. Heaven needed angels, but The Empty was not one to give up souls. Castiel, Angel of Thursday, and Jack’s father, was the bargaining chip. Jack could have a few angels, even a demon or two, but there would be no more interference from Jack _or_ The Winchesters - not for the rest of eternity. 

The only way to guarantee that was to make sure Castiel could never wind up there again. 

Cas and Jack assured them that they talked it over, that it wasn’t an impulse decision, but Dean has _seen_ their conversations. If they both agreed, if Sam or Dean weren’t there to complicate things, then all it took was a few gentle looks and a nod for Jack and Cas to decide something. 

So Jack came back to Earth with Cas, and Cas came back to Dean without his grace. 

Dean hadn’t been back to the basement since Cas was taken from him. Knowing Cas could no longer hear him through the walls, Dean had gone back in, destroyed anything he could get his hands on, and screamed and screamed and screamed. 

***

“Eileen is going to show me the garden.” Cas says from the doorway. Dean nods vaguely, not looking away from the television. “She says it’s attracting many bees.” 

“Have fun!” Sams says earnestly, pretending he’s not just as engrossed on the _Dr. Sexy_ episode as Dean is. 

They hear the screen door shut, and Sam gives up any pretense. They’re silent until the episode ends, and Sam wrestles Dean for the remote so he can navigate away before Netflix starts the next episode. 

“We said we’d make dinner.” Sam says impatiently. He takes the remote with him when he walks into the kitchen. 

“We have at _least_ two more episodes before Cas comes back in.” Dean grumbles. He lets Sam pull out all the ingredients for the homemade pizza even though he knows where everything in the kitchen is. 

“Eileen won’t let him stay out too long.” Sam says, handing Dean a block of mozzarella. 

Sam and Eileen’s home is outdated and smaller than Dean and Cas’, but still spacious and warm. Sam calls it a starter home - whatever that means - but it’s close enough to The Bunker and came with a big yard and a garden off to the side, fenced in so Miracle can’t destroy it. Dean and Cas helped them paint and remove wallpaper, and Sam and Eileen have slowly been filling it with furniture and knick knacks. There’s a room in the back with magic supplies that Sam wanted to keep close, and another room filled with books and artifacts that were either too useful or too dangerous to leave behind. 

Sam and Eileen take turns maintaining the garden. They grow their own fruits and vegetables, and herbs that the neighbors think are for cooking but are really for spells. Flowers spill out all over the yard, and Cas may not have his grace but he still has his knowledge. He can name any plant with minimal inspection, and advises them on placements and how to care for them properly. Eileen gives Cas seeds to take home, and Cas plants them all with heartbreaking care. 

“I told you hobbies would be good for him.” Sam says with a little grin. “Soon _we’re_ going to be the ones going to your place for garden tours.” 

Dean huffs out a little laugh at the thought. A few years ago, he never would have imagined this could be his life. Kneading pizza dough in his brother’s house. A burgeoning garden in his own backyard. A _home_ with deep green kitchen cabinets and furniture that he bought rather than inherited. 

Two almost finished bedrooms. Except, unlike The Bunker, there’s no Dean’s room and Cas’ room. It’s _their_ room. It’s Dean’s side of the bed and Cas’ side of the bed. The second room is for their _kids_ , and Dean almost fucking cried last week when he found Marvelous Marvin the Talking Teddy hidden under the bed, as if Jack was embarrassed that he still had it. As if he’s not literally a child still. 

“Cas’ll talk your ears off about it.” Dean starts heaping piles of cheese on his pizza, trying not to be offended by Sam’s own careful cheese placement. “Hell, I don’t even understand what he’s talking about half the time.”

“Did you ever?” Sam teases, and Dean knocks into him hard with his shoulder. “Okay, okay, watch the pizzas! But seriously, man, Cas is doing great. You both are.” 

It isn’t the first time Sam’s told him this, but Dean still feels an acute sense of pride that he doesn’t try to shirk away from. It’s been hard fucking work, but they’re all _here_. 

“You know what else is great?” Dean smiles up at his brother, sliding his pizza onto a baking sheet. “My pizza. Just wait until these babies are done and no one wants to touch your sad little excuse of a pizza. _Vegetable pizza?_ You can’t beat the classics, Sammy.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Sam laughs, flinging a leaf of spinach on Dean’s pizza in retribution. 

Dean leaves it there, basking in the feeling of the oven-warm kitchen and in Sam’s easy laugh. In the knowledge that Cas is probably outside, smiling, eating a strawberry fresh out of the ground. 

***

Dean hadn’t taken Cas becoming human well. He welcomed the familiar, all consuming anger, but for once he hadn’t had it in him to try and push it onto Cas, or Jack, or even Sam. He had stewed in anger and guilt on his own. Cas’ return had brought with it the briefest and most intense joy Dean had ever felt, but Dean still dreamt of all the ways Cas could be taken from him. He dreamt of Cas saying, _I love you, I love you, I love you_ and being snatched away before Dean could say it back. 

He doesn’t say it back.

Cas gives him a wide berth at first. He takes to being human effortlessly. Unlike the times before, there’s no adjustment period or resentment. Sam teaches him how to make basic meals, and Cas sets off the fire alarm twice. Cas goes to the store by himself and comes back with new clothes in different styles, cycling through them to try and find what he likes. Jack spends extra time in The Bunker, checking over Cas to ensure there are no side effects, and getting Cas’ opinion on the goings-on of Heaven. 

Cas thrives, and Dean takes to falling asleep with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. 

They run into each other often, as people do when they share a house. At first, Dean assumes Cas is mad at him - as mad at himself as Dean is, it’s the only thing that makes sense. Cas’ sentences taper off when Dean walks into the room. They both barely manage to stammer out anything more than a sentence to each other, and always part ways awkwardly. It’s not until Dean is sober, bumping into Cas in the kitchen, that he considers Cas’ behavior could be anything but anger. 

Cas jumps when Dean makes his presence known, still not used to being snuck up on. He hits his knuckles against the fresh coffee pot and hisses at the burn of it. Dean moves automatically, running the cold water on the tap and grabbing Cas’ hand to stick it under the water. 

This close to Cas, Dean sees the color rise in his cheeks. He hears the little clearing of the throat, and notices how Cas seems ultra focused on not looking at Dean.

It occurs to Dean then that maybe Cas is _embarrassed_. 

_The one thing I want is something I know I can’t have._

Cas had saved Dean’s life with the knowledge that he would not survive it himself. He went willingly and with a smile on his face, secure in his belief that Dean did not feel the same way, but also secure in knowing that he’d never have to find out either way. 

He never expected to see Dean again. 

“You avoiding me, Cas?” Dean says gruffly. 

He feels a dangerous bit of hope start to claw its way up his throat. 

“I -” Cas clears his throat again, still focusing his gaze elsewhere. “I apologize, Dean. I never thanked you properly for your role in bringing me back -”

Dean slams his hand onto the countertop. Cas’ hand jerks in his grip.

“I don’t want you to thank me, Cas.” Dean grits out. “Thank me for what? I knew I should’ve gone with the kid to get you. I don’t give a fuck about keeping the peace. I would’ve _made_ The Empty give you back. Or better yet, I should have found a way to destroy it, whether Jack wanted me to or not.”

“Dean -”

“ _No_ , Cas.” Dean turns the tap off but doesn’t let go of Cas’ hand. His thumb brushes against the reddened knuckles. “You shouldn’t have sacrificed yourself to save me. If you hadn’t been trying to save me from Billie, _none of this_ would have happened.”

“Dean,” Cas repeats, a bit more urgently. “It was my choice to make. You and Sam do not have a monopoly on sacrifice. I chose to die, just as I chose to give up my grace. It wasn’t just to make The Empty happy, or to make things easier for Jack. I _wanted_ to do this, Dean. I wanted to be rid of it.” 

Dean reels back a little. It’s a lie, it has to be a lie.

“ _Why?”_

Cas smiles very gently, finally looking Dean in the eyes. 

“I wanted to be human.” He says simply. “I was tired of being half-in and half-out. With Jack in charge, Heaven doesn’t need me. It’s never been in more capable hands, and I - well, I guess I just wanted the full experience here on Earth.” 

Dean stands a little straighter. He takes a tiny step forward, still not entirely in Cas’ space but close enough that Cas starts to look nervous again.

“So why are you avoiding me?” Dean asks, voice only a few notches above a whisper. 

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Cas admits, dropping his voice to match Dean’s. “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me, Dean, or that things have to change. I want to be here, with you and Sam, as your friend. As I’ve always been.” 

Dean brings Cas’ hand up. The redness on his knuckles has faded, the skin now only slightly pink and tender looking. Dean doesn’t look away from Cas as presses his lips there, watching as Cas’ expression wavers between shock and confusion. 

“I want them to change.” Dean says. “You understand, Cas? I want them to change.” 

For the first time since Jack brought him back, Cas laughs.

“I love you.” Cas says it with as much conviction as he did the first time, and Dean feels like Cas just shattered him all over again. 

Dean finally lets go of Cas’ hand, dragging Cas into his arms. He holds onto him tight, still having trouble believing he’s holding real flesh and blood instead of a vessel. Cas’ head settles against the crook of Dean’s shoulder and Dean breathes in the scent of Cas’ messy hair.

“I love you, Cas.” As soon as Dean says it, he understands how Cas was able to die with a smile on his face. It’s a freedom he didn’t know existed. “I love you, of course I love you. How could you even think I didn’t?” 

It’s then, in the kitchen with Cas in his arms, that Dean fully grasps what they had been fighting for. This is what free will feels like.

***

It wasn’t until they all left The Bunker that Cas had gone quiet. 

Dean had to fight against feeling guilty again, wondering if Cas was now regretting his decision or if Cas truly did hate the farmhouse that much. But Cas had assured him that neither was true, and tried his best to explain to Dean how he was feeling. 

Cas missed Jack. Jack, who was still technically a toddler but also a celestial being of which the universe had never seen. Cas didn’t miss being an angel, but he missed healing Dean with the touch of a finger. He felt listless and useless and, like Dean, was unsure of his place in the world when he wasn’t fighting or caring for someone else. He spent hours alternating between reading books he already had memorized and staring out the window. After Eileen gave him his first plant, he spent hours out in the garden, preparing soil and planting anything he felt was viable to grow. 

Dean took out his own feelings of misplacement on the house. He knocked through walls, destroyed old countertops, and pretending he didn’t miss hunting until he didn’t have to pretend anymore. Cas livened as he and Dean began planning their home. He got tan from all the sun, and somehow became even more beautiful when the first of his plants began to bloom. He’d watch Dean unabashedly when Dean took a sledgehammer to things, toned arms visible in his sweat damped t-shirts. Dean got them a bed that wouldn’t squeak.

Slowly, they pulled themselves together again. Dean stopped looking for hypothetical cases and stopped dreaming of pulling monsters apart with his bare hands. Cas made friends with the old ladies that frequented the grocery store and found that he preferred sweaters and soft fabrics to button-ups and ties. 

Somehow, they found peace. 

***

Cas comes in with his arms full of grocery bags, shooting Dean an unimpressed look when he doesn’t get up to help him. He lays it all out on the kitchen island, and Dean starts rifling through the bags to see what made it home and what didn’t. Dean’s grocery lists are immaculate, but Cas tends to go rogue. 

“I wrote ground beef, not ground turkey!” Dean tosses the package at Cas, who catches it effortlessly. “And I damn well know I didn’t write down _turkey_ bacon.”

“You’ll live.” Cas replies breezily. Dean knows this is Sam’s fault somehow. 

“Hello!”

Dean and Cas both jump, Dean almost losing his footing and braining himself on the countertop. Dean grumbles out, _we told you to the use the front door!_ just as Cas delightedly says, _Jack!_

“You’re damn lucky I don’t keep a gun on me anymore.” Dean says, and pulls Jack in for a hug. 

Dean puts the food away while Cas and Jack do their usual routine. Cas leads Jack to the window seat and Dean tunes out when they start talking angels and afterlife, no longer interested in whatever goes on above or below them. Rowena runs Hell with an efficiency that no one can doubt, and Jack is still learning, but has run into minimal road blocks in his own Heaven renovation quest. The angels are just happy to have someone capable in charge, someone that actually _cares_.

“We’ve finished our room.” Cas informs Jack. Dean catches the excitement in Cas’ voice and listens in again. “Now we can start on the third bedroom.”

“We sure sounds like a lot of people, Cas.” Dean interjects. Cas throws him a look, but doesn’t respond. 

“Once you and Claire have your own rooms, you can decorate them however you’d like.” Cas continues. He pulls out one of the many paint swatch samples they have lying around the house, placing it gently into Jack’s hands. “It can be any color you want. Once the walls are finished, we can take you to Kansas City. They have wonderful furniture stores there.” 

_We, we, we._ Cas speaks perpetually in _we_. _We_ made dinner, even if Cas just set out the plates. _We_ finished the room, even though Cas hasn’t picked up a hammer or a sander in months. _We_ grew these zucchinis, even though Cas hates when Dean stomps around their garden and disturbs the plants’ peace. Dean gives Cas a hard time because it’s too much fun to just ignore it, but he loves the sound of it. He loves that the old couple from the property next door leaves Thank You notes signed _‘to Dean and Castiel’_ whenever Cas leaves them a basket of fruits and vegetables, or when Dean takes them a pie. 

“I like many colors.” Jack says contemplatively. “Can I pick more than one?” 

And Cas, who wouldn’t even let Dean have an accent wall in the living room, just smiles and says, “Of course, Jack.” 

***

Cas can no longer heal Dean with the touch of a finger. He can no longer hover his hands over Dean’s body and let the glow of his grace seal a cut, or knit a broken bone back together. Cas gets colds now. He comes back from gardening with tiny cuts along his arms and legs. He gets sunburnt across his nose once, which Dean can’t stop looking at until it heals, oddly enamored by it. 

Cas takes it all in stride. He learns to heal in his own way. 

Cas can make soups and stews better than Dean can. When Dean gets the flu, Cas perfects his chicken soup recipe. Dean doesn’t let Cas spoon-feed him, but he kinda wants to. 

Dean has aways prided himself in his stitches, but Cas quickly surpasses him. Cas’ hand is scarily steady. Dean no longer cuts himself open on monster claws, but renovating a house is its own kind of danger. Dean’s blood is spilt in every room of the farmhouse, and Cas is always the one who sits him down and carefully, so carefully, stitches his wounds closed and cleans him up. 

There’s a frustration that simmers in Cas when something goes wrong that he can’t fix with a snap of his fingers. Claire breaks her leg in a hunt and spends some time holed up in her bedroom, begrudgingly letting Cas ply her with soups and burn various herbs and flowers that are meant to aide healing. Dean catches Cas looking at her sometimes, his eyes soft and sad, as if he were the one that broke her leg in the first place. 

Dean’s never been good with his words, but Cas is all about communication nowadays, so Dean tries his best.

“You know, Cas,” Dean says one night. They’re side by side in their bed, Cas reading over a book on medicinal herbs. “Sometimes a broken leg can be a good thing.”

“I don’t think I’m inclined to agree with you.” Cas says, closing his book and turning towards Dean, head tilted. 

“It forces you to slow down.” Dean explains. He pats Cas’ thigh, then leaves his hand there. “Claire’s been going non-stop for years. A broken leg ain’t gonna kill her, but it _is_ gonna force her to keep her ass down for a while.” 

Cas hums, contemplating this. In the dim light of the bedside lamps, Dean barely catches when the corner of Cas’ lip quirks up a bit.

“I like having her here.” Cas admits. He leans closer to Dean, titling his head up so Dean can kiss him quick. “I just don’t want her to be in pain. I don’t want any of you to be in pain.” 

Dean prefers to not talk. He’d rather kiss Cas stupid and have good, quiet sex - because they’re both terrified of what would happen if Claire overheard them. But he knows now that sometimes Cas just needs to hear that things will be okay. He thinks back to all those times he left things unsaid and then resented Cas for not reading his mind. He’s not that person anymore. 

“Hunter or not, kids break their bones. It’s basically a rite of passage.” Dean says with faux-seriousness. He takes Cas’ face in his hands, running a thumb along Cas’ lower lip. “Let her mope in bed and eat too much junk food. It’s good for her.” 

Cas rolls his eyes, but smiles, and Dean pulls him closer. He figures he’s talked enough.

***

Alarming amounts of packages begin appearing at their doorstep. Claire insists it’s all things to decorate her room, and then once Jack gets wind of it, packages start appearing in his name too. Dean doesn’t know what the hell Jack needs USPS for when he can literally conjure up anything, but he keeps Jack’s packages in a pile in Jack’s room for when he visits. 

Claire’s leg heals up perfectly, but she sticks around a few days more. She doesn’t care much for gardening but she loves smashing shit up with Dean in the unfinished rooms. She’s good at patching up walls, bad at painting corners, and has extremely strong opinions on Dean’s taste in music. Dean knows that Jody’s has been her home for a long time, and that Claire spends every night holed up on FaceTime with Kaia, so he savors his time with her with the knowledge that it’s only temporary. 

Claire sidles up to Cas on the couch one night, her hands hidden behind her back. He peers at her with an apprehensive curiosity, and holds his hand out.

She places a Grumpy Cat plush in his palm. It’s almost identical to the one Cas gave her years ago, the one she keeps in her duffle bag. 

“You know,” She says with a smile. “Since _Dean_ won’t get you a cat.” 

“I have allergies!” Dean protests, and Cas and Claire roll their eyes in unison. 

“I love it, Claire, thank you.” Cas says sincerely. She lets him hug her then goes into the main bedroom to place the toy on Cas’ nightstand, where Dean knows it will stay. 

***

Jack knows how to restore Cas’ grace. 

He didn’t, before, when he and Cas first appeared in The Bunker after Cas’ rescue, but he does now. Jack tells Cas this in private, and then Cas tells Dean the same night. Jack is new at this whole Being God thing, and he's still only a child, but he picks up new skills very, very quickly.

Dean _knows_ Cas will say yes. How could he not? All Jack had to do was wave his little hand, and there Cas would be in all his glory. A full-fledged angel again. 

Cas says no.

“When I die and go to Heaven,” Cas says, and Dean feels like he’s swallowing glass at the thought. “Jack has permission to restore my grace if he feels the need for another angel. Until then, I’d like to stay as I am.”

***

Cas is sitting by the fireplace listening to _Losing My Religion_. Dean always finds this hilarious, but Cas never seems to fully grasp the irony.

“Hey, handsome,” Dean says brightly. Cas regards him with a blend of warmth and wariness, as he always does when he knows that Dean wants something. 

Cas is wearing a dark blue sweater. It makes his eyes look almost eerily clear and bright. It’s not quite a V-neck but it’s low enough that Dean gets an eyeful of collarbone. He was going to ask Cas to move his damn fertilizer out of the way, but suddenly Dean is angling towards something very different. 

Cas laughs when Dean tells hims so, and something about Cas in the firelight, his eyes a stunningly unnatural blue, strikes Dean in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. He thinks of Cas when they first met, how emotionless he was, how he looked as if he were made of marble. Cas is always tan now, and sometimes even grows a beard, and he laughs every day. Hell, he laughed about twenty minutes ago, when Dean tripped over his own boots and almost landed on his ass. 

Dean means to say, _Why don’t we head on over to bed, Cas?_

Instead what comes out is, “Are you happy?” 

Cas blinks in surprise, brows furrowing, but he doesn’t even consider it before he says, “Of course I am.” 

“Oh,” Dean says softly. It’s not that he was expecting a hard no, but he wonders, sometimes, how an angel who’s travelled the ends of the earth could be satisfied in Kansas with Dean for company. 

“Are you worried that I’m not?” Cas asks, a hint of concern evident on his face.

“Nah, it’s just -“ Dean pauses, fighting the urge to shrug off the conversation. “I just want to make sure you’re still okay with this, you know?”

 _This_ , losing his grace. _This_ , having his son running around Heaven and Earth by himself. _This_ , living in fucking farmhouse that’s half-finished and with floorboards too weak for the clawfoot tub Cas asked for. _This_ , being with Dean. Sharing his bed, and sharing a life, and compromising on movie nights because Dean’s taste is stuck in Westerns and 80s movies, and Cas has moved on to foreign language films and period pieces. 

“Dean,” Cas sighs, looking up at him with his hand propped underneath his chin. “I know, despite everything you’ve seen, you struggle to understand why I gave up my grace so easily. I would think our years together made it clear that there was no happiness in being what I was. Being powerful had its benefits in battle, in hunting, but that’s not my life now. That’s not me.”

“I don’t want you to have to fight, Cas.” Dean says. He lowers himself to the ottoman so he can look Cas in the eye. “That’s not what it’s about.”

“I’ve already been everywhere, Dean.” Cas says, then smiles. “If I truly wanted to visit someplace different, Jack could take me. Just as I was able to transport you when you’d allow it. Of course, if I could get you on a plane, we could take a vacation - ”

“ _Cas_ \- ”

“ _But,_ ” Cas interjects, teasing now. “I do enjoy a road trip.”

Dean chuckles a little, feeling flustered under Cas’ fond gaze. Cas looks at him like this all the damn time - even after they fight, sometimes _when_ they’re fighting. It makes Dean feel embarrassingly vulnerable, knowing Cas knows every part of him and looks at him like that anyways. 

“Well, as long as you’re happy, Cas.” Dean says. He means for it to be a joke, but it comes out a little too sincere to pass off. 

“I’m very happy.” Cas assures him. His eyes light up, a little mischievous and a little cocky. Dean perks up immediately. “Why don’t we go to bed now, Dean?” 

***

“I think we’re finished with Kansas.”

Sam says this one night over beers, when it’s just him and Dean on the porch of the farmhouse. Dean chokes a little on his drink, wiping off the mess with the back of his hand.

“I thought you liked your job.” Dean says, gesturing vaguely at Sam. “You and Eileen have been doing damn good work.” 

“We do like it.” Sam smiles, relaxed in the cushioned outdoor chairs that Cas had to convince Dean to buy. Cas has expensive taste. “We’ll still do it, you know? We’ve been working this whole time on getting a good system online, so really, we can do this from anywhere.” 

“The Bunker?” Dean asks, though he knows they rarely go anymore.

“Is in capable hands.” Sam replies easily. “We’ll still check in, obviously. Even if we’re far, it’s just a plane ticket away.”

Sam and Eileen went to Paris a month ago. Before that, they had gone to California to be tourists in San Francisco. They took Cas with them that time, and Dean could’ve driven them there if he really wanted to go along, but there was something about Cas’ quiet excitement about going on an airplane as a human that Dean didn’t feel like interrupting. 

“Where are you gonna go?” Dean asks, expecting Sam to go on some long-winded monologue about some city they’ve researched to hell and back.

Instead, Sam says, “No idea.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at Sam, who still looks relaxed and happy and without a care. Dean likes his brother like this. He likes that Eileen looks the same way.

“I was born in Kansas.” Sam shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “Doesn’t mean I need to stay here forever. We had fun in California, and Eileen wants to check out Washington. Maybe we’ll even head East. We’ve never really gone anywhere without having to hunt. Isn’t that the great part about all of this? We don’t _have_ to know what’s coming. We just get to choose.” 

Dean clinks their beer bottles together in agreement. He’s happy for Sammy, and for Eileen. He knows they want to get married, maybe have some kids. It’s been nearly two years since Chuck, and they’re all still in the process of moving on, so Dean more than understands the need for change. 

“But I don’t mean to make you think staying in Kansas is a bad thing!” Sam tacks on quickly, a worried crinkle appearing in his forehead. “You and Cas have done such a great job on the house, and you both seem so happy. I promise, Eileen and I are going to visit all the time. Like, so much you’ll get sick of us.” 

“Sammy,” Dean laughs, reaching over to clasp a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about us. Whatever you choose to do, I’m happy. And besides, I think we might be finished with Kansas, too.” 

Dean likes that he can speak for Cas without guessing. Cas tells Dean what he wants, and if Dean’s unsure, he knows to just ask. They get into bed at a decent hour like an old married couple and discuss Jack, and Claire, and whatever else is on their minds. Dean brought up the topic of moving about a month ago, hesitant about it because of the garden, because of the carefully painted rooms in colors that Cas took ages to pick out. Cas had just smiled and pulled out his laptop.

“Are you serious?” Sam asks. Now it’s his turn to look at Dean with his eyebrows up by his hairline. “You and Cas talked about it?”

“Yeah, well, you know Cas.” Dean looks over his shoulder and through the window, where Cas and Eileen are signing to each other on the couch. “He wants to live by a farmer’s market. He thinks Kansas is too flat, and Claire got it in his head that he’s gonna love Trader Mo’s - ”

“ _Joe’s_ , Dean, Trader Joe’s.”

“So we’re thinking of testing out the East Coast. Somewhere with lots of trees that change color in the fall, and all that shit. Vermont, maybe, or upstate New York.”

 _Somewhere beautiful_ , Cas had said. He showed Dean pictures of idyllic towns, of bustling cities. Cas likes mountains, and forests, and lakes, and anywhere with lots of green. Cas thinks they’d like the snow. 

“Wow, you really have talked about this.” Sam says with a little shake of his head, grinning. “So tonight, is that what you wanted to talk to _me_ about?” 

“Great minds, or whatever bullshit.” Dean says, and Sam clinks their bottles together again. “I guess we’re all ready to move on.” 

After dragging Sam back from Stanford, Dean didn’t ever think he’d know how to let Sam out of his sights again without feeling anything but debilitating guilt and worry. 

Now, though.

Dean has never seen Sam so happy and well adjusted. He and Eileen have a perpetual glow that comes with being healthy, in love, and unstressed. Sam doesn’t look at him with constant concern, doesn’t ask Dean if he’s okay all the time. Dean’s settled into retirement better than he’s ever settled into anything. He takes baths with epsom salts to ease old injuries, and he only stays in shape because Cas (and Jack and Claire and Sam and Eileen) insist he needs to stay healthy. He and Cas go for jogs, or walks if they’re too tired. Sex is its own form of cardio, though Cas insists it doesn’t count. They’re all _normal_ , or as normal as they ever could be. 

“So, Cas wants a farmer’s market.” Sam says slowly, then laughs. “Makes sense. What about you, Dean? What do you want?”

Cas has asked him the same thing many, many times. Dean’s had time to consider.

“I want to buy some land.” Dean says. “I want to build a house from the ground-up. Maybe after I’ll even get a real job. I’m a simple man, Sammy. I want a big bathtub, a garage for Baby, and Cas at the door when I come home every night.” 

Dean looks over his shoulder again, a little embarrassed by Sam’s overjoyed expression, and manages to meet Cas’ eye inside the house. Eileen notices Cas staring and turns around, seeing Dean through the window. She smirks, turning back to Cas and signing something Dean can’t see.

Cas laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> this was titled 'back on my bullllshiittt' at first because i can't believe i'm writing supernatural fan fiction in the year 2020
> 
> you can find me on tumblr at [castieler](https://castieler.tumblr.com)


End file.
